behind him and at the picture in question. The child was very fine-featured and attired in a dress that looked like it was constructed entirely out of doilies. One could be forgiven in assuming she came from a family where female children were few and far between. Her long hair was in neat pigtails, ending in oversized white ribbons.
She smiled at him, revealing a missing front tooth. Her hands were clutched behind her back and she was twisting slightly from side to side in the manner of a child who had a secret that needed to be coaxed out of her. The Burrow was in the background of the photo, in all its shambolic glory.
Draco noted her hair that was the colour of a summer wheat field. Not a hint of ginger to be seen.
"I'm guessing she takes after her mother?" Draco asked.
Ron grinned. "Only in looks. She's a cheeky little thing. Sometimes, I can't believe how much has happened in such a short space of time. I mean, some of us actually have kids now. I reckon I feel much older than I am, you know what I mean?"
"I think I know," said Draco, quietly.
"I understand you and Harry talk a lot lately, and I know we don't exactly get along. But now that you' re going to be a part of Hermione' s life, I just wanted to tell you that you have my approval." He ended this little speech with a nod, for emphasis.
Of course the bastard had to go and look amused. "Thank Merlin for that, Weasley. Now I can sleep at night."
"You're still a tosser, though," Ron felt the need to remind.
An oven mitt hit him in the back of the head. Hermione was in the living room. She shot him a look that was several degrees colder than the frigid weather outside.
Her tone was warmer, however. "Breakfast is ready. And by ready I mean I've burnt the toast and probably overdone the eggs. The water's just boiled up for tea now."
"I' ll make the tea," Draco offered, averting further disaster. He glanced at Ron. "You are staying for breakfast aren't you?"
Ron retrieved Hermione's oven mitt missile and grinned. "Like I've ever been one to refuse a free meal."
**
Harry was in a foul mood. It didn't help that he had just had a massive row with Ginny who had practically slammed his front door in his face.
Granted, he had said a few regretful things.
Why did Snape have to escape on a bloody Saturday night? It had ruined everyone's weekend. Reaction to the news of the escape varied widely.
Those who knew the finer details of Snape' s case responded with a sort of gritty resignation that justice, however inappropriate, had finally been served. Malfoy himself had petitioned Arthur Weasley for a re-trial now that he was available to testify as a witness to the events from five years ago, but Arthur had apparently been blowing him off.
Those who only knew Snape as a former death eater, on the other hand were hammering the Wanted posters all over London.
The topic of Snape's escape was still a very raw one. It didn't take a great intellect to ask Ginny the right sort of questions. She could lie well when the occasion called for it, but she had never been able to lie very well to Harry.
Which was why it annoyed the hell out of him that she tried. She trusted him with her own fate, but not with Snape's apparently. Arthur was in a right royal snit about Azkaban's only escape since Bellatrix had busted out.
Ron was strutting around being Highly Suspicious of everyone and then there was a stooped, old woman waiting outside his office
Harry had no idea how long she'd been standing there. She had a pass pinned to her taupe cardigan, which obviously meant she had secured an appointment.
"Can I help you?" Harry asked briskly. He opened his office door for her.
She smiled up at him and replied in a lightly accented voice. "You are a very busy man, it seems, Mr. Potter. I placed my inquiry about a month ago."
Harry sat at his desk and inwardly groaned at the small mountain of memos gently rustling for his attention. His appointment diary was buried somewhere under the pile. "Unfortunately a month's wait for an appointment is considered prompt, actually. I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name..." He dug for his dairy to see if his secretary had scribbled down any background information about the